Join Akatsuki Today!
by theinsane
Summary: Deidara's life sucks, to put it bluntly. He has no money to waste as he so pleases, no job to get said wasted money and he smells like old people. So, he joins Akatsuki, where the clinically insane run amok, kill and get paid big bucks for it.
1. Relatively Important Realizations

Join Akatsuki Today!

Deidara's life sucks, to put it bluntly. He has no money to waste as he so pleases, no job to get said wasted money and he smells like old people. So, he joins Akatsuki, where the clinically insane run amok, kill and get paid big bucks for it.

AN: I don't own Naruto, nor anything else mentioned. Oh! And updates are slow as hell. And generally, I don't do humor, so if you don't like it…I warned you.

I already posted this before, but I thought it was crappy and took it off so I could fix it. Thanks to Rin-neechan for editing. It'd still be crap without you.

And the thing between the breaks is just some stupid little quote I felt like adding. It has nothing to do with anything.

* * *

_"One thing a fool must know; some secrets turn blood, to gold."_

* * *

Deidara had a problem.

He was evil.

Now, normally this wouldn't bother him, but currently his evil was the cause of his exile and the bounty on his head; which was currently at the top of the charts, he was proud to add. Bounty hunters were searching under stones and pebbles for so much as one of his perfect luxurious hairs. However, Deidara could blow them up any day, so that was okay. What was wrong were the facts that a) He had no job, and therefore no money to waste on useless, trivial things as he so pleased, and, b) he smelled like old people, and that was a really, _really _stinky stench; and it's all because he's evil.

Don't misunderstand him, Deidara _loves_ his art. Just give him some clay, and some sacrifices, and he could make the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. It's not barbaric, nor is it sadistic; it's simply an appreciation for what is hidden in plain sight.

However, owners of galleries simply didn't acknowledge that. They kept on saying, 'oh my god, my wife! You killed my wife!'and 'Holy crap, you just killed that guy's wife!'and 'You killed Kenny! You bastard!' and his personal favorite, _'Ahhhhhhhhhhh!!!!'_

Well, that, or they really didn't appreciate it when Deidara blew up their limbs. He mildly understood that yes, getting your arm blown off hurt, and, _yes_, it would be blown off forever and you would remain horribly disfigured and you would never get laid again, but still. He got his _eye_ stabbed out by his _dad_ and he didn't cry.

But really, who knew blowing up more than half your village in the pursuit of artistic perfection was _that_ bad? Besides, half of those buildings were the cruddy galleries, and one of those buildings was the current government. Deidara was sure that some anarchists would be happy—they were so hard to please; some were passive-resistant, some were violent on the inside, but were so messed up that they repressed it all and lived unhappily ever after; some just liked complaining…choose a side, people!—and all the artists in the world would forever worship him for destroying the less tasteful art.

Well, apparently all the anarchists were protesting in the government tower that he blew up, and the government officials were on vacation in the Country of the Waves. The Artists of the World convention was in town, yeah, but when he looked in their hotel rooms, all he saw were five year olds and crappy crayon pictures, with colors that ran outside the lines. Apparently critics had tastes that were the shit of all craps. So, Deidara blew up the hotel, later finding out that the actual artists were their parents, and they were out at the seminar conveniently located out of town.

…

…eh. He hated kids, anyways.

So, currently, Deidara had no use of his evil power of blowing shit up. His village tolerated it, yes, but they decided to be total assholes when he demonstrated his art, and, like the jackasses they were, put a price on his head and threw sharp, pointy, and sometimes blunt knives at him until he got out. As a side effect of this unfortunate firing, he was unemployed—they paid him to blow shit up, and then they fired it because of it. The bastards—and, really, he couldn't live with his dad in the happy hotel forever (haha! They'd never find him there!). Really an insane old-people home, but if you so much as mentioned that, every patient would get on their highly outdated ninja outfits and attempt to kill everybody with their walking sticks and overdosed sleeping powder screaming "Rebel against _The Man_!!" until they forgot about it five minutes later, and demanded their pudding, but still. The nurses were always eyeing him evilly, polishing their tranquillizer guns with almost scary deliberation. Maybe that was because every five minutes Deidara offhandedly mentioned that the happy hotel was really an old-people home?

…nah. That couldn't be it. They probably just envied his perfect hair, and wished to steal it for their own evil purposes.

…Back to the point, Deidara was unemployed, had a bounty on his head, was exceedingly evil, had a psychotic view of art, lived in a happy hotel and constantly stunk of old people. What could he do for a living?

His watch beeped, alarm going off. Startled, he jumped, thoughts coming to a screeching, and exploding, train-wrecking halt. Ah, yes. The midnight-make-old-people-go-crazy time.

Grinning, he pressed the intercom button. _"Let's see, testing, testing, 1, 2, 'I-am-a-fucking-young-ass-person-and-I-can- and-goddamn-will-cuss-when-I fucking-please-you-wrinkly-bastard-old-people-I-hope-you-finally-choke-on-your-dentures-and-kick-the-fucking-bucket,'…un." _Deidara dutifully recited his lines. Now, to see if it worked…

"Darn it, stay off my yard young whipper-snapper!"

"Show respect to your elders!"

"Apples!" Ah. It seemed that his dad was awake.

"_This place isn't a happy hotel, it's an old-people home!" _he yelled into the intercom. Releasing the button, he quickly ran out of the room, and into the frenzy—only to get tranquillized by the nurse that was waiting, an infuriated look on her pale face.

"Just stay here!" She snarled, throwing his now-limp body into a corner. "I'll deal with you later…"

Ahh! His hair! They were going to cut off his precious hair, and do unmentionable things to it! Like making it into a horrible '80's styled wig, and then they'd donate it to the less fortunate because they were weird like that! Ahhhh!

One minute later, Deidara was all feared out. It seemed that the tranquillizers had finally taken effect, and all he could feel was an intense boredom and a mild amusement at watching a normally bedridden Wrinkly-one simultaneously take down five nurses.

"Oh, no, _they_ got you, too?"

Deidara turned his organic eye towards the speaker, keeping the implanted camera focused at Baldy 2.0 (now with a stylish comb-over!), who had gotten hit with several darts and was still lighting things on fire.

That was okay with him, though. It wasn't like Deidara got them in his system enough to become immune to it.

…okay, so maybe he had, but he was comfortable here, you know?

"What is it, _dad_?" He managed to bite out after a moment of silence. A syringe was waved in front of his sapphire eye, and Deidara flinched, but didn't move, not particularly in a hurry to get his other eye stabbed out. "Antidote?" His father asked, grim look on his face; black suit sticking to his sagging body like glue—

"Oh, I just threw up a little," Deidara muttered to himself, as he carefully maneuvered himself away from the needle. The wrinkly man nodded, seeing that he didn't need the antidote, and moved toward Baldy 2.0 (now with puke-inducing man-boobs!), who was struggling to hold a lit match up to the puke-green wallpaper, despite the fact that the several hundred tranquillizing darts imbedded in his back made him look like a drugged- up porcupine.

"I know, it makes me want to puke, too. _The Man_…" The elderly one grimaced in disgust, injecting Yuki with the cure, "is trying to bring us down. If _The Man_ brings us down with _The Man's _evil organization, _The Man_ will rule the world… the end is near!" He continued babbling about the end of life as we knew it, and how Armageddon was upon humanity.

Meanwhile, the cogs in Deidara's head turned--dusty and rusted as they were from getting no mental challenge from eating pudding and insulting old people...

_'Evil organization...?'...I got it!...un!'_

Deidara took no notice to his father's lapse of sanity, nor did he notice Baldy 2.0 (pudding and dentures sold separately) run into the nurse's lounge shrieking a high-pitched war cry.

He had the answer to his problems.

Deidara would join an evil organization, get paid, and help them in their pursuit of world domination; all the while educating people with his art. He would no longer smell of old people, and no longer would incompetent boobs surround him in their stupidity. Yes, for now he would have mostly competent imbeciles surrounding him!

"…I wonder if _daddy dearest_ will sign me off the will if I work for 'the man'? …un."

* * *

From the twisted mind of theinsane, whom wishes for reviews. 


	2. Something That May or May Not Matter

_Akatsuki, _the sign drearily read, a skeleton limp against the side of the arch.

Mentally giving his regards to the decorator, Deidara walked through the doorway, idly kicking at a skull as he stepped into a drowning darkness. Soon enough, however, the shadows were chased away with a snap of artificial light. Deidara squinted, temporarily blinded, and waited, slowly peeling open his kohl-lined eye, red gleaming out of a blonde fringe that covered his face.

It was safe to say that he did not like what he saw.

The lobby was white, and had marble floors that were polished so much that you could see your reflection, and several leather chairs sat around an opaque glass table. The walls were filled to the brim with lifeless black and white still lives.

To put it bluntly, it was overwhelmingly bland, and the decoration made him want to gorge his eyes out with somebody else's blunt, dirty, mildew-inducing toenails. This was not an evil lair of doom! This was _nice_! And Deidara _hated_ nice! This was almost as bad as the other evil organizations…almost. Trust him; Deidara did his research.

This made him think. Surely this was not the right place. These mountains were filled to the brim with caves with cubicles full of people that were loathed. Deidara probably just walked into a place where the tax records were, that's all. He walked outside, blue eye glancing at the sign before looking down to the previously forgotten papers crushed in his hand. _Akatsuki, _it read cryptically, blood dripping from the engraved crimson letters.

He looked to the sign, which clearly read _Akatsuki._

Maybe it was a fluke? Maybe they mislabeled it, and somewhere there was a cavern labeled 'Douche bags' and it was filled to the brim with weapons and torture and screaming, and '_they futilely attempted to run away, clay spiders climbing up their legs and burrowing into flesh, black holes left where the arachnids nested themselves. There was a burst of red, and the victims fell to the ground, scratching at the stone floors until they bled, white chalky bones and black charcoal burning, and they screamed and shrieked and pleaded and cried but they were going to become art, so—'_

Ahem. Back to the point.

Deidara sighed, once again walking into the blindingly white room. Why was here again? Ah, yes, the prospect of taking over the free world and using his art for discord, chaos and the like. That, and getting through the thick heads of retarded people who insisted that no, he couldn't make someone explode and put it in a gallery, and _no_, red and fire and blasting was not art. Hmph. Some said that about _Dali_, but _he_ got a museum! Well, not the explodey-yeah-things-go-boom! part, but, yeah, if someone was reading his thoughts at that moment, they would get the point. But, nobody was listening now, right? Right?!

"And," he said angrily, stopping his paces with a click of his heels, "Where the fuck are the cookies?!"

"In the front lobby, of course."

Deidara jumped, swiveling on his heels. Behind him stood a black haired boy with an obviously fake smile, black business suit clinging to him not unlike a second skin. In his hands were two boxes; a pad of papers perched suspiciously on top, precariously close to falling off the cardboard. _Akatsuki_ was stitched onto the suit messily: _A _stretching from the bottom left of the shirt to the midriff, _katsuki _squeezed in so as to fit on the black shirt.

'Eh. I've seen worse,' he thought, idly eyeing the cut-off shirt and the hat balanced carefully on the other's head. Bells attached to it gently clinked as the other shifted in order to keep a hold of his packages. 

"Chocolate chip?" He slowly asked, suspicious. Deidara swore that if they didn't have that type of cookies would grab his kunai, shove it in the brunette's stomach, and hang him with whatever entrails happened to fall out. Because, damn it, not having chocolate chip was fucking evil. However, if nothing else, this only made the other smile even more brightly. It seemed that luck was on his side, today, quite unlike the time where his father decided that it would be fun to stab his eye, and exceedingly similar to the time where he found a not-dead mechanic that could replace said eye.

Still, the grin grew, "Of course not." Someone was going to die. Deidara twitched, hand reaching for his explosive clays.

"We have triple chocolate chip supreme," he continued, seemingly oblivious to the tongue that was lightly licking the explosive substance. "With a purely sugar filling, and all of it smothered in a melted chocolate." Deidara's organic eye widened. '_Just looking at one of those bastards would probably would give someone diabetes.' _

And we all know how mean giving someone diabetes is.

"Damn," Deidara whistled, impressed, "You guys _are _evil." Despite the décor, of course. Maybe when he got in he could get in a splash of evilness or two, a blood-splatter here and there… "Un," he added with a smirk.

"We'd get sued if we weren't." The other stated, smile still spread across his pale lips, though his tone was indifferent. He turned around and began walking, beckoning for the blonde to follow. The brunet glanced at Deidara out of the corner of his eye. "Didn't you read the pamphlet?"

Deidara shrugged, idly cracking his right-hand's knuckles against the side of his face.

"Yes, but—" _the decoration threw me off. Your smile would be pleasant to anyone who didn't know who you worked for. What kind of fucking evil organization has white everywhere?! _Were some of the things his mind idly toyed with saying. Unfortunately, he was interrupted.

The brunette pivoted on his heel, glaring at Deidara with anger, though the grin was pasted to his face. "…you dare doubt the pamphlet?" he seethed, voice cold and threatening.

"No, but—" _you're an asshole. I can't wait until I get the chance to blow you up. Ohh, is that a still life of a bleeding heart? Very nice, and quite detailed. So exquisite. _Let it be known that he got distracted easily. Ohh, a bee!

"You better not," the angry tone was completely gone, smile once again cheerful with that hint of sadism. "Otherwise…"

'_Buzzy, buzzy, busy bee…weird guy says what? Oh well, a bee!'_

Ah…life's simple pleasures.

And then the bee was cut in half by a kunai. It fell onto the floor, two halves oozing little bee guts all over the marble floor. For a second Deidara mourned, but then he distinctly remembered seeing his hand grabbing a kunai and slicing it in half.

…what? He hated buzzing things.

"I'd have to go dark on your fat ass," the other continued, insult chirped off his tongue with disturbing ease.

Weird boy say "Go dark on your fat ass"? Hey, he did not have a fat ass!

"...that's just plain mean…un."

"So?" The brunette shrugged, and the smile left his face, leaving behind a bored uninterested look. "That's my job. My low paying, high maintenance job. Thank goodness I mug people on the weekends. I'm just not sure how I'd be able to pay for my crime syndicate if I didn't." He walked to a desk, setting down his boxes next to the bone-white table. Rolling his shoulders whilst cracking the vertebrate in his neck, the other man began typing on his computer, dexterous fingers flying across the keys with speed and accuracy. "You will be accepting our offer then, Mr. Deidara?"

Zombies? Crime syndicates? Mugging? This guy was bat-shit crazy!

Well, insane was the new mentally healthy. The psychiatrists must _love_ him.

…or did they just love his money? Eh. Whatever. He was awesome in Deidara's eyes. He was totally going on the Awesome list.

"Perhaps," The blonde hmmed, "...anything else?"

"Hm?" The brunette paused, fingers lingering over the glistening keyboard. "Oh. _Oh…_" He realized, "I'm a hit man for Akatsuki, as well as a replacement secretary..." He blinked, trailing off, finger tapping his chin in mock concentration and a glazed look coming to his black eyes. Deidara took the time to sit down in a conveniently placed leather chair, and it was a mere second later that the grin came back.

"I think I killed her or something. They all die so fast..." He chuckled, the moment apparently hilarious to him. "I think that every member has offed at least one!"

'_Wonder when the next secretary is coming in…' _Outwardly, Deidara offhandedly told the other to 'go on, un,' idly picking at his clay-encrusted nails.

"My split personality is a hero that hates myself's guts. I like the color crimson. Preferably, the crimson of those who are wasting my time, and thus, my money, by not joining Akatsuki." The brunette paused, and then, as an afterthought, continued, "Which has diabetes-inducing cookies in the front lobby. And I am called Sai."

So he…weird guy… Sai… whatever! knew. The evil bastard. _'And why did get the subliminal feeling that I am getting threatened?' _

Images of a fly buzzing around his head popped into his head, before he finally swatted at the insect, subsequently swallowing it in his implanted mouths, and words slipping into his head, where they were promptly ignored. The blonde mentally went through the ignored phrases.

...oh.

Well. Deidara was going to join anyways.

"Okay, I'll join, I'll join…un." Deidara grinned, and put his hands in front of him in mock defense. Slick tongues slipped out of the dark lines in his skin, hole opening to form a grotesque smile. Seeing the thickly veiled disgust, the smiles stretched to a demented degree. He loved freaking people out. To a certain point, it was like his art, staining other's memories with something unusual—or usual, but Deidara liked to think that nobody blew up people quite like him—so it would never be forgotten.

Sai seemed to notice his amusement at his reaction, as the smile once again became cold and threatening. "All in a day's work, Mr. I-forgot-your-name-because-I-honestly-don't-give-a-crap."

"Likewise, shitface," Deidara smiled, inwardly crossing 'Sai' off his Awesome list.

"That's Mr. shitface to you, douche bag," The brunette sang, sarcasm dripping off his every word with a lethality equal to, if not more than, poison.

Deidara shrugged. "Whatever," he nonchalantly muttered, knowing fully well that the other could hear him. He ignored Sai as he started picking at his mouth-hands, futilely attempting to remember which swallowed the fly and wondering if he could get his hands to throw it up.

Sai seemed to not like being ignored, eyes seething and smiles lying. "You're on my list."

Was it Sai's Awesome list? "Good for you." Because, if otherwise, Deidara didn't care.

He mentally sighed. _'Sometimes it seems that I am the only person in the world with an Awesome list.'

* * *

_

Meanwhile, Sai decided to actually work for once, filling in the documents necessary for the other's inauguration into the Akatsuki.

Name: "Deidara" 

_Birth: "Who cares?"_

_Age: "Does it even matter?"_

_Gender: …_

Sai left that one blank. For one, he wasn't used filling that one in, the former label being 'Sex' and the former answer being 'Yes, please', or 'no, I don't feel like it today'. Then Leader found out about it, and, suddenly, he got gender. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo.

Besides… he couldn't tell. Hmm…

_Gender: "Well, if it's a guy it probably got castrated once or twice in its lifetime."_

There. That worked. Sai happily resumed with his quest of working…

_Immediate Family: "In a happy hotel."_

Oh the bitter irony.

_Formal Loyalty: "The Hidden Village of the Stone."_

Sai sighed to himself. This was the stuff that the Leader cared about, not the 'immediate family' crap. Though he still had no idea why the Leader had a problem with it. Maybe he was sex joke phobic. Or maybe the documents that he sent to other companies discredited their evil and sadistic reputation.

Personally, Sai thought it was the former.

_Reason For Leaving said Former Loyalty: "Blew up more than half his village and a hotel full of kids. Possibly hates his village, though is most likely just psychotic."_

And that put him in Sai's Awesome list. The hotel full of kids going boom, he meant, though ripping apart half of a village full of trained ninja and living to go blow up a hotel full of kids was impressive, too.

He mentally shuddered. Their squealing voices and their whining still haunted him to this very day. And Deidara, the awesome, awesome blonde, had successfully destroyed a hotel full of them.

Oh yeah. He got number three on his Awesome list. Number two because at this very moment, Hidan was probably slaughtering twice as many infants in the name of his god, which Hidan insisted was always number one on _his _Awesome list, so it also had to be number one on Sai's. Such were the rules of The Awesome.

Sai pressed the enter button with a flourish, watching as a window popped up, saying _"Yay! Now you, too, can procrastinate! We certainly are!"_

"And, you're in…" Sai grumbled loudly, futilely attempting to x out the popup, which now was saying, _"Haha! You have a virus! Loser!"_

The blonde grunted in response, and, looking over his computer screen, Sai noticed he seemed to be sticking his finger far into the throat of his hand-mouth. Was he bulimic, or something?

Oh well. Everyone had ways of keeping their arms skinny. This just happened to be Deidara's.

His gaze returned to his computer monitor. It was flickering between black and the popup, which had spread to cover half of the monitor. Sai sighed. It wasn't like this was the first time some evil nerd organization had attempted to take over their computer system. He moved his mouse to the computer-scanning program, and clicked. Doing so, the popup, in all capitals, exclaimed, _"BITCH, PLEASE!"_

_Virus found. _His computer program stated. _Delete?_

He clicked yes.

"_NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" _AND ONCE MORE—sorry—and once more Sai defeated the evil nerd corporation.

"So," Sai started, having done his workload for the day, "You going to go to the meeting Friday? 'How to Eliminate Your Enemies'?"

Deidara gave him a questioning look, before wiping gray hand-vomit on his black cloak.

"Next Friday, or this Friday?…un." Deidara replied, offhandedly sniffing at his hand to make sure it didn't stink.

"This Friday," the brunette lied, smile mysteriously appearing once more.

The blonde frowned, blue eye narrowing. "No, no, I don't think I can." He mentally went through his schedule, dragging out the information kicking and screaming. And writhing. And bleeding. And missing a few limbs…back to the point, Deidara dragged the information to the conscious part of his mind. "I mean, there's lots of stuff I have to do, un. Like, I want to burn down that hospital, then the firestation, and hurry to the orphanage so I can blame it on that cripple who stares at me weird. I can't just change it. It's in my schedule…un... Is skipping a meeting permitted?"

Sai contemplated telling him the truth. He thought about doing something that was morally good.

Then he decided that it would get the blonde mad, and in order to prevent an unnecessary brawl, and in order to maintain peace between the two members he should continue spreading his deceit. Well, actually, Sai just wanted to screw with his head. It sure was convenient that there was nobody reading his thoughts, or anything.

So, instead of doing the right thing and telling the truth, he decided to uphold Akatsuki's reputation of being evil in general and doing the not-right thing. "Well, you're new, so I'm sure that Leader will let it slip. But, yeah, I know what you mean."

The blonde beamed, glad that there weren't going to be any ninja masterminds conspiring to kill him today. "Yeah," he agreed. "Not everybody understands the fact that if you reschedule something, you have to free up space to do it, un. I just don't think I'll have another opportunity like this, you know?"

"Yup..." Sai actually didn't know.

"Uh-huh...un." Deidara didn't know that Sai actually didn't know.

There was a long moment of silence.

Now, Sai was perfectly fine with silences. They allowed him to concentrate on his work, and helped him concentrate on not-working as well. Deidara, however, was used to noise, whether it be the resounding blast of an explosion, or old people at the happy hotel wheezing as they slept all day, only waking up for their pudding and the old-people-go-crazy time, which was naturally filled with screaming, and shattering, and blah blah blah. So, naturally… he talked to fill the silence.

"Anyways…I like what you guys did with the interrogation room, un. It's clean, but in that scary, pristine hospital way." He took the virtual tour, of course and, naturally, he only looked at the interrogation rooms, as it was the only place that was mildly interesting. Torture implements of the unimaginable—except not, because if nobody had imagined them they would never exist in the first place—hung on the walls, all so thoroughly polished that you could do your hair whilst simultaneously carving out the insides of the victim with a curved blade. "It gives me the feeling that many people have died in there before, but there is no evidence of it and then I'll be next to not-ever-exist. I'd think it would be pretty damn intimidating if I was trapped there."

"You took the virtual tour, huh?" Sai rhetorically asked, glad that he would not have to show the other around. "We had to get the worse cases of OCD's to work on all of the bloodstains, dried up organs, and whatnot. They are pretty relieved that their disorder can be used in society." The brunette stood, once more gesturing Deidara to follow him, the blonde slowly stood from his chair and doing so.

"So, in other words, you're going to fire them today?"

"Exactly. We wouldn't be called an evil organization if we made people happy, now would we?"

* * *

_From the twisted mind of theinsane, whom wishes for reviews._


	3. The Danger of Burger Time

Hey, so I finally got to posting this chapter. Wow. It's a freaking miracle.

Anyway, thanks to Rin-neechan for looking over this for mistakes.

So, yeah. I don't own Naruto. What's new?

* * *

The topic of a conversation, one would suppose, can and most likely will be based on the mood of the participants. However, it is also based on the appearance of those who chose to speak. For example, if one member of the dialogue just, moments ago, decided to go roll in dog shit, and then proceed to go talk to someone, it is highly unlikely that the conversation would be about the latest fashions. No, it would be about how one of the douchebag talkers went and rolled in shit, and how he was dropped on his head multiple times when he was a child. They would then proceed to talk about their next stupid, insane and just plain retarded action.

Nevertheless, if that one person continued to repeat that felony of idiocy, damn straight is the second person going to become used to it (if there are any brain cells left unmelted, person B should promptly sue for the ongoing crime of dumbness - which proves a certain contempt against humanity - and bring person A to the court of stupid; used for the idiots, rappers and douchebags). Thus, once person B becomes used to person A's antics, better known as the act of rolling in shit, they could easily talk about the latest trends.

Thus, when a blonde walked up to him, introduced himself as Deidara, promptly sat down, ignoring of the dried blood that splattered across his face, cracked in miniature fissures, the killer also being draped in the finest - or rather, freshest - guts, crimson drenching his suit, Zetsu only thought of the dry cleaning bill. It was, he mused, definitely going to get higher, as it did to every addition to their little take-over-the-world club.

"So...you eat people?" Deidara was particularly flippant, it seemed, idly scratching at his face, red dust spiraling down to the floor.

"Yes." Maybe he answered because those souless blue eyes were unnerving. They spoke of countless days torturing old people, traumatizing children, slaughtering poor puppies and the occasional good kitten, should they not be evil, as it must be said that felines were one of the cruelest living creatures on the planet. You did not mess with them, provided you do not want various brainwashed animal rights group on your ass - they might have had problems with killing animals, but they have absolutely no quarrels about ripping you apart, pouring kitty litter on your open wounds, pissing on your dying body and then selling your pelt to tourists, after they get the pee-smell out. Such was the way of the kitty-mafia. You simply do not mess with that kind of evil.

No. The reason he answered - and thus, went off on a spiraling, non-related, unless tangent - was because this blond-haired _fuckface_ was interrupting his burger time - _his meat, for god's sake! - _and he wanted to get the _dumbshit _away from him _**as soon as fucking possible!!**_

Then again, it wouldn't take long to answer the guy, given that he keep his replies short, and to the point.

"For a living?"

Never mind, he thought to himself. _Go. _**_Away. NOW!! _**

"No, it's just a hobby..." The sarcasm, he knows, drips from his sharpened tongue with the most potent of toxins. Only the most immune - or perhaps, the most oblivious - would come back from his verbal irony unscathed.

Then again, the other seemed to like proving a certain lack of IQ, responding with an a cheery 'oh, that's cool!...un,' and then the most idiotic phrase ever invented.

"Do people taste like chicken?"

Short. Blunt. To the point. That's all Zetsu's answers had to be. _Precise._ Polite. And he could finally get back to his burger.

"...only the colons, and livers. Sometimes the stomach, if they eat an excessive amount of poultry, constantly." He didn't like the stomach, though. The acidic lining upset his own digestive system, and quite often did he find that many of the corpses he was to dispose of had even worse eating habits. Broccoli, for example. Fish tacos. _Rotten _fish tacos. _Puppies._ What happened to meat so raw it still mooed (or in his case, screamed and begged for mercy)? Sometimes, Zetsu missed the good old days. Then he reminded himself that he wasn't some nostalgic old person that that sat around in a big arm chair in front of retarded children, repeatedly calling them 'whippersnappers', reminiscing about various idiotic things he did when their age that taught him nothing that the young brats cared about and making up the most ridiculous stories that nobody with a brain would believe, save, of course, the retarded grandchildren.

And, suddenly, the blond, Deidara, moved on. Zetsu couldn't care less, really, because, damn it, he was eating! _Nobody _interrupted him when he was eating. Ever.

He idly amused himself with the thought of leaving a man eating Venus flytrap under the blonde's bed. Maybe he would leave some of his bamboo and, with the help of miracle grow, make the plant grow through the other's stomach.

Both of them would be too quick and painless, he decided, taking another chomp out of his burger. Or maybe they were too slow and painful. This was a fellow organization member he was talking about (though he had yet to go through initiation trial). Still, maybe killing someone so horribly for merely interrupting his burger time was a bit too much...

No. The bastard would pay.

Then again, he always could try it on his psychologist, first. The mind doctor, with his kind and humble nature and his perceptive grasp of how the human brain worked, probably wouldn't mind figuring out if it was - or, and he he doubted that it was not - too dire a punishment.

Still. The egomaniac shithead had to get something right, what with the collage degrees flaunted ever so _mockingly_ on every inch of his office. It was like he was _in _Zetsu's head. It was like he _knew_ what made him tick, and constantly toyed with his head, his spirit! Because, sometimes Zetsu wondered what would have happened had he not dropped out. Would he be a heroic savior of a doctor, finding cures to every disease known to mankind?

On second thought, he'd probably be a degree-flaunting, death-wishing jackass that constantly dealt with people who had trouble deciding whether or not they wanted to kill him and people who thought rolling in shit was entertaining.

...eh. It would be interesting, if not smelly. And, speaking of smells, he smelled rotting fish - oh, how he _loathed_ the smell.

Ah, Kisame. He had no idea that he smelled so horribly. Thought the reason that the ladies avoided him was because he was intimidating. (Which he was, in a way. He was big and blue and shark-like and smelled so potently of rotten fish that the power of the smell rivaled even the most powerful perfume, all of which, inevitably, made them feel threatened and severely creeped out.) He had half a mind to tell Kisame of this disgusting stench, so that he would put himself out of his misery. Maybe take a few baths, even. The rest would be covered by plastic surgery, if he could find a doctor that wouldn't scream, piss himself, pass out and then ask if he wouldn't terribly mind being dissected for the sake of science.

Oh, but Kisame was incredibly sensitive about anything relating him to aquatic life. Once, Hidan had brought home some sushi, and discreetly fed it to Kisame, before pointing out what exactly made his cooking so good (as usually, it was horrendous), and how it must have been cannibalism, to him.

And Kisame turned an amazing shade of aquamarine, and rushed to the bathroom. Tobi just wondered why 'Kisame-san, was crying as he retched over the toilet, screaming about his "babies"?' (Admittedly, Zetsu didn't really know how to answer that. So he just told Tobi that he'd understand when he grew older.)

Nonetheless, his body finally caught up with his odor. And he was talking, some question about Kisame 'thinking' that Zetsu was 'allergic' to cow. ('Pfff,' Zetsu quietly thought to himself. Kisame? Thinking? As if. If he actually had a thought in that oversized skull of his, he have that plastic surgery by now.')

Zetsu peered up at the shark hybrid, slipping the last of the meat into his mouth, and swallowing. Kisame was damn lucky that he was finished, Zetsu thought, otherwise he'd be in a world of hurt. But, regardless of his state of well-being, or lack thereof, should the shark-like man had interrupted him earlier, he still asked a question; and questions, no matter how stupid an inquiry, had a right to be answered.

"I am." He curtly answered, wondering if he would get another pay deduction for killing his shrink.

...the food was best at this job, anyway.

* * *

From the twisted mind of theinsane, whom wishes for reviews.


	4. Bitch: Why You should be Hidan's

Woohoo! Finally! An update!! It's a miracle!! The sky is falling!!

...well. I didn't say it was a GOOD miracle.

Anyway, thanks to Rin-neechan for looking over this for errors. And, hail Jashin.

I hope you all enjoy. Laugh, please. Or else, I'll be a very sad theinsane.

D:

That's the face of a very sad theinsane. Except less sideways.

Do you really want to see that pitiful sight?

No. I didn't think so.

--theinsane ( Bearer of immense DOOM and never-ending DESTRUCTION. Also fun at parties.)

* * *

One day, Hidan knew, everybody was going to be his bitch.

The Hidden Villages were going to be his hoes, fighting when he told them to. Because, who didn't love a pointless, bloody war, what with the screaming and the sunset fires that lit upon the corpses when doomsday began that steady, inferno-resembling transition into dooms-night? The copious red, more plentiful than water, which soaked into the ground that could no longer remember what it was like before maggots swam in the sea of minerals that was themselves, each turn resulting in a feast they could gorge themselves on? Beauty like this, even if it was his own imagination, or rather, _prediction_, always seemed to remind him that Jashin was there, even if you couldn't see him. Who else could have been responsible for such a masterpiece? It was no mortal man, that was for sure.

But, nonetheless, every single bit of wealth a ninja had would belong to him, and he would eat whatever he damn well pleased, whether it'd be steak, puppies, or the much more available, and much more annoying, children. They didn't eat the meat out of choice, mind you – though it was indeed magically delicious – but rather because vegetables and fruits had a rather tragic quirk of very quickly making them morbidly obese, something that took decades to cure because none of them really bothered to exercise the weight off (too caught up in Jashin's extreme awesomeness to really care that with every step they took, their body jiggled like the jello they might've consumed so stupidly before, and with every stomp, somewhere, on the opposite side of the world, a butterfly died – and sequentially caused a slew of natural disasters that ended up so gruesome that some Jashin followers considered to take up sumo wrestling, though they quickly reconsidered once they could no longer find their Vrakilis – the name for whatever Jashin-blessed weapon, should any telepathic idiot manage to stumble onto his mental ramblings – as it had finally been lost forever into the infinite rolls of fat that, to put it simply, made them sumo wrestlers with lethal objects lodged inside them. Which, in the longer run, got them disqualified, but only because the referees were snobby prudes that were squeamish at the sight of (quite) a bit of blood that resulted from an unfortunate body slam. In Hidan's opinion, at least. But he worshipped Jashin, and since Jashin hadn't sent a sign nor decreed anything about the matter, that opinion became fact. One of the many perks of worshipping Jashin, right next to great hair and a kickass weapon.). The only people who could rival the immense size of a Jashin-follower gone horribly obese were an ancient race of people, their name lost to the decay of time. Hidan himself was eaten by one of those things, their voracious appetite causing him to be eaten alive, Vraklis and all, and trapped, the Vraklis unable to pierce the blubber that was flesh strengthened by a miraculous chemical reaction that slowly occurred over a long period of time, due to the voracious consummation of beer, KFC and NASCAR – a phenomenon that, when exposed for too long, became radioactive and destroyed brain cells. How he got out of that predicament is unknown to others to this very day, though Tobi occasionally exclaims that he found him inside of a beached whale that somehow found its way to Tennessee and lodged itself into the door of a trailer. Supposedly, the cursing that came from the still decaying corpse made several locals believe it was possessed by a demon, and Akatsuki came running, sending Tobi, the very good boy, to do the dirty work (and secretly hoping that he would die).

And that's how Hidan found himself joining the Akatsuki, according to Tobi (who no one believed).

Jashin, how he loathed those bastards.

But, back to the point: In the end, everyone will become his bitch. Politicians were going to be his bitches. Kings were going to be his bitches (and their queens, especially). _Bitches_ were going to be his bitches - but not rappers, or country singers. They deserved to be exiled. Or executed. Douchebags, and fucktards, too, though they all basically mean the same thing, anyway, so who gave a damn? Not Jashin. Not Hidan. Not a reasonable person with a reasonable IQ.

He already owned half of the Wind Country, because it was mostly desert, and nobody really gave a shit about sand for miles and miles on end, so it came cheap. Earth country was his, too, because all they had was an army of idiots who could only manage to throw big rocks at their foes, and even then, just barely, for they were imbeciles. In the past, though, they were formidable foes that could not only throw sharp, pointy boulders, but also blow people into itty-bitty, fun, bite-sized chunks (now being sold at McShinobi's everywhere) and still have an arsenal of jutsu left over. Their genjutsu could rip apart the most wary of minds, and their taijutsu could cut through diamond. _They were just that awesome._

But, alas, now they were old, crippled, and in some desolate, yet well-maintained, retirement home, for those who were mortal and Hidan's bitches did indeed have retirement plans.

Because Jashin was that fucking amazing.

He also owned Wave Country, too, but they needed a twelve-year-old blond-haired little shit to scare them into standing up to one of his weakest, albeit very successful, bitch. Their revolt was led by a crying little brat with snot dripping from his nose, because that seemed to be the trend for rebellion leaders these days.

So they were a bunch of pussies.

But they were his pussies, so he didn't kill them.

Much.

…

…okay. So every now and then he maimed them a little…

* * *

Deidara was bored.

"_This, you see, is a relatively common occurrence in modern society, especially occurring in future criminals with an IQ significantly below normal, I.E, your douchebag of a cousin. Stabbing people isn't okay. It won't make your feel better about the fact that his/her's aunt and uncle are also your parents. It will only make your cousin's head hurt as the he/she/it tries to figure out why they tazered you for killing someone, or, in more, stupider terms that the imbecile can understand, "you go ouchy 'cause why do mean big kids made you go zap! for giving someone a boo-boo?". KFC won't make the horribly disfigured thing (that happens to be related to you) feel better. Nor will beer, which only really accomplishes to make the terrible-mistake believe that every minority is conspiring against a certain someone and that it's really okay, like stabbing people for funzies, to shoot trespassers. No, NASCAR won't make the emptiness go away, but really it's the only thing the antennas that douchebag cousin made out of your leftover clothe-hangers and braces, and the noises and voices of the racetrack makes the man/woman feel, ever so slightly, that they aren't entire failures. The only other channel they get is the discovery channel, but that sucks 'cause it makes them feel British (which the it says, stumbling around on the leg sticking out of it's shoulder and the arms sticking out of the legs, is not parioamericnaistic, before tripping, falling on its head and throwing up magenta ooze – a slime that smells suspiciously of a meal five on the value menu from McShinobi's – that is soaked into the previously dyed carpet, which is mostly covered in beer cans, anyway, so no one can really see how it so totally clashes with that weirdly colored 7__th__ chin of your cousin's). No, boredom is a dangerous thing, especially, as one eyewitness claimed, at one point when boredom and explosive diarrhea accidentally caused a chemical reaction that released a substance that made your cousin have a made craving for human flesh. However, due to the immense size of his personage, he was jammed into the door of his trailer, and only a complete idiot would go near it"– _

Of course, Deidara wasn't the typical human being. One reason was, well, the fact that he was in an evil organization that strived to take over the world. Not many people were associated with those kinds of organizations, and if massive numbers of people were, it was no longer an organization – it was then a government with secret political agendas, laws that they never obeyed, and a figurehead so stupid (and preferably had the initials GWB) that nobody would believe that they were smart enough to wipe their own asses, let alone wiretap anyone. If Deidara was a typical human being, he wouldn't have mouths in his hands (very few living creatures have more than one mouth, in fact. Except for aliens. Is there something you aren't telling us, old, senile, I-live-in-a-retirement-home, dad?). So, it has been proven that Deidara wasn't the typical human being.

But Deidara was bored. So horribly bored. So bored that he, in fact, had refrained from making his beautiful art, and, as of yet, had a new record; seven hours and thirty-three minutes, and was now doing what no sane (or smart) human had ever done before – watching a documentary about boredom. But, what else was there to do? He had already fabricated an person-who-didn't-ever-exist-ever's life, writing a fake journal, and painting a little, before cutting off some sick old guy's ear, giving him the paintings, (sending the ear to some guy with a name he just made up) and well, yeah. Essentially, he fooled everyone. Surprisingly, there was very little to do when you were in an evil organization, though this was mostly due to the fact that The Leader – and that was his name, or, at the very least, the only thing they could call The Leader, else he go Ape-shit on your skinny murdering ass. The Leader even went bananas – the most vicious and homicidal fruit that had ever been used as a verb – when The Leader was referred to with a pronoun. Something about being above replacement, or whatever. The Leader had problems.

Anyway, The Leader was excessively paranoid, and strongly believed in the Buddy System. The Leader thought that if there were two deranged murderers out maiming people, together, there would be less chance of them getting lost and accepting candy from creepy strangers with an odd resemblance to a snake.

At first, partners were chosen based on their ability to tolerate the other's psychotic tendencies. But, now, after months of gross habits, exploding squirrels and traumatizing pranks, they now couldn't stand near each other without thinking particularly doomy thoughts, and in case of that one blue dude Deidara observed, crying a little whenever a silver-haired guy ("Hidan," Sai told him) walked near him. Blue guy #2 - for that was the second time in his life that Deidara had seen a blue guy, the first once having a relatively normal pallor before Deidara accidentally-on-purpose tied him to a boulder and threw in a lake - muttered something about a kitty mafia, (or something else that sounded less… well, stupid, and maybe Deidara just heard wrong) and walked away quickly. So when Deidara accepted the opening for "Evil crazy psycho with an excessive amount of tongue and unordinary lengths of hair", he had no partner, and neither did anyone else, really. Whilst The Leader reorganized the groups, there were to be no missions, which in turn meant that Deidara had to sit in a white room on a white couch on a carpet that lacked any color watching a TV program that failed to do anything but bore the living shit out of him. (And, oh, how alive that crap was. It moved, ate squirrels, and other annoying rodents.)

And, speaking of which, it seemed this program had a sponsor. Miracle of all miracles, Whoo-dee-fucking-doo, and other, meaningless phrases that may or may not be sarcastic, but express disinterest all the same.

Deidara watched nonchalantly as three words popped onto the screen, a deep voice pronouncing them clearly and efficiently, with brief pauses between the three words.

_- - - ~ *() - ^ - - - Join - Jashin - Today - - - ^ - () * ~ - - -_

_"But wait! There are so many more benefits to being Hidan's Bitch TM!! Such as…_

_1) A permanent "Get Out Free" pass. Hidan won't eat you. Just so long as you have children he can eat. So get busy, hos. _

_2) A pretty decent dental plan. You'd be surprised at the number of dentists who are really Jashin-worshippers in disguise, but not really. You secretly knew that that doctor with the great hair and the gleaming red sword leaning against the wall was a sadist, anyway._

_3) A Retirement Plan. But you already knew that, didn't you? Yes, you, Clarice. You used to be Hidan's bitch, but now you are old, dusty and crabby. You don't have a dental plan, but that's because you don't have any teeth. But you have bingo. Bingo, and meds that make you drool tons. Have fun with your nonexistent grandchildren! (Nonexistent because Hidan ate them, and their parents, too. It was a good Thanksgiving dinner. Zetsu brought a meat pie from some shady guy named Sweeney Todd. It was tasty enough to cry. But they didn't. Because crying isn't badass. And they are badass. [Ignore the tearstained napkins.])_

_4) Legal Immunity. If you are one of Hidan's bitches, it doesn't matter who you kill, what you blow up, or even if you have irresponsibly launched flaming boulders at your neighbors with the shiny, recently bought hot pink catapult. Just say that your Hidan's bitch, and it was all in the name of Jashin. We're pretty sure that the executioner will understand. Unless your name happens to be Vladmir. Shit, man, just pay him back his money already!!_

_5) All the meat pies you could want at a reduced price. Well, actually, no. Those are Hidan's. So…well… screw you! Get your own damn meat pie at the fucking full price!_

_6) No freedom to choose! Can't decide between two video games that you really, really want? Be Hidan's bitch, and every single cent you own will belong to him! You won't have the money needed to buy even one of them, thus saving you from the time and stress of choosing only one._

_7) The Day of Extreme 3ness, celebrated on the 25th of December to commemorate the Jashin's greatness. Even better than Christmas, as Jashin has a miracle to prove his existence each year. This year, several key PETA figures die of heart attacks after seeing how animals are eaten and their names, left abused, in the ever popular game series Metal Gear Solid (created by Jashin solely for this awesomeness). Next year, the ever-loathed George W. Bush is scheduled to die in a freak accident that somehow includes a flaming boulder, a very bright, gorge-out-your-eyes pink catapult and some dude name Vladimir. Friendships are mended, and tempers flare. Tune in to see it (once it happens, that is) on KBN, Konoha Broadcast News._

_8) And many, many more that we can't risk telling you… or else. _

_9) And that's it. _

_10) So, go away._

_11) …Are you stalking me, or something?_

_12) Seriously, stop it. I'm getting pissed off, with the numbers and the listing and the—_

_13) And you bastards even cut me off! Seriously, you shitheads, I'm just fucking hired to do this bullshit! Leave me the hell alone or I swear to Jashin I will kick your scrawny asses, you"—_

The screen turned black. A voice calmly stated _"Now back to your regularly scheduled program." _

And as the documentary man blandly began counting to infinity, Deidara set out into a (completely metaphorical) sunset, swearing to find Hidan and possibly seeing if he, too, could join Jashin today...or at the very least, sometime in the near future. He should've been out seeing which crazy would be less likely to kill him, to as to a partner faster...but after asking plant-guy one question... he really didn't feel like it.

Because really, really didn't want to be Hidan's bitch.

Ever.

But a retirement plan sounded nice...

* * *

Did you laugh? Review so I can find out whether I should become clinically depressed, or just plain crazy.

theinsane (Enemy of the Universe, and Evil Incarnate. Good with Kids.)


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